The Decemberists - The Bagman's Gambit.

I recently procured The Decemberists album "Picaresque" from the Library Grift. It's been getting some pretty heavy rotation on my ipod. This song, in particular, is getting a lot of play. I like the story. I like the longing that the lead character feels, the sadness and the pain. And I like when the song kicks in gear and gets down to business.

I like this song.

So, I thought I would share it with you. Give it a listen, won't you?





Cheers,
Mr.B

Meet Carmine DiPozzi!

So, on Wednesday of last week, I got an email from Jamie, asking if I would be available on Saturday night for a performance. It seems that Schadenfreude (a very talented, local sketch group) was having a Rent Party and that they were asking friends to come and provide atmosphere to the gig. The idea being that the audience would interact with "characters" before the show began, setting the mood and tone for the show. A few shows back, Jamie and Kristen went as corporate hot tamale salespeople. Later, they went as "mega-fans" of the troupe. It seems that the theme for the final show was "An Italian Steakhouse."

"I suggested you to the group and they were really interested. Plus, they're asking you to wear a track suit. Do you have a track suit?"

"No. But I can get one. Count me in."

Jamie and I emailed back and forth a bit, zeroing in on what the troupe needed for the show. I was to play an Italian goombah type, who owned the restaurant and went out of his way to go around and meet the audience before the show, welcoming them to the venue. The bigger the character, the better.

We agreed on a call time to pick me up for the gig and I took it from there. At Ragstock, I found a track suit that was two sizes too small for me. Greg Inda went shopping with me and technically, HE found it. He also found tight, black track pants that matched the top. When I zipped up that size L shirt top over my 2X belly, I knew that character inside and out. The Elvis glasses came afterwards and then I found a lovely horseshoe gold ring to go with my other gold rings. At another shop, I found a size L tank top and size 13 white tennis shoes. All told, the whole costume was right around $50. Totally worth.

The piece du resistance was the lazy porn-mustache that I crafted from my own sexy goatee.

I got home, showered, and then began slowly assembling the bits of the costumes. At Joe's suggestion, I taped a rolled up hand towel to my thigh and was thus endowed with a massive, fake phallus. I balled up a pair of tube socks and made massive testicles out of them. The character was really coming together.

The hand-towel penis.


When the costume was done, Joe and I took a few "glamor" shots in my living room.


Comin' Atcha!



Rock And Roll!


Too Tired To Party!

As planned, Jamie picked me up at 6pm and we made our way to the theater. Once I stepped out of my car, I could hear him say, "Oh My God. What have you done?" I walked right up to his car and shoved my crotch area into his car window. The evening had begun.

During the car ride there, Jamie and I practiced for the gig by improvising as our characters for the whole ride there. Jamie played "Andrew Stuart", the gay matre-d' of the restaurant. Jamie sold the hell out of his character by wearing a pink shirt and a yellow shawl that he referred to repeatedly as his "pashtini". He even wore a light foundation of makeup and eye mascara. Through improvisation, we learned a lot about our two characters. He and I had been working there for years and I grudgingly accepted his homosexuality, he tolerated my grotesque heterosexuality. A co-dependent couple. During the car ride, he improvised a story about how he and his lover, Tony, (I kept calling him his "roommate") had tried to buy a futon from Craigslist (which I called the German guy - get it? Craig Liszt?). I barely listened to a word that he said, preferring to play with his radio and telling him the jokes I'd learned on the internet that day. ("How do you know if a Polock woman is wearing pantyhose? Because he ankles swell up when she farts!!!") The night started off strong as we both learned to inhabit our characters.


Carmine and Andrew.

We got to the gig a little early. About 45 minutes too early. Jamie confirmed that the guys were there and we went inside to see the kids from Schadenfreude. They were testing mics, when we got there, but they soon stopped to admire Jamie and I, when we entered the joint.

"Holy Christ! What do we have here?" yelled Justin, as we walked up to the stage. Kate stopped and stared, "Oh My God. Look at you two." Sandy came out from the back and just started laughing. Adam clapped me on the shoulder and said, "You came here to play, sir!" and we all gathered on stage to visit for a bit. Jamie went right into character and I followed him and we showed them the characters for a bit, hugging Kate inappropriately and acting a fool for the boys. We found one of my catchphrases for the evening, right there, "Youse kids are all right! These peoples are gonna get some comedy's tonight!"

And the night began...

Jamie and I had time for a single drink together, before the people started pouring into the venue. They quickly filled up the front seats and attacked the food, buffet table. The bar fed the audience with roast beef, buffalo wings, a greens tray, chips and plenty of other goodies. (Later, during the show, Jamie and I finally got to eat and Jamie said, "It's like we're the band. Sneaking food in, wherever and whenever we can.") Jamie and I improvised for 4 and a half solid hours, absolutely in character, the whole time.

One of my best gigs was to tour the whole place, meeting the audience. Schadenfreude had a photographer, Alicia, onsite and she took pictures of me with LITERALLY every audience member. I pulled the absolutely same stunt with every person there. If the subject was a guy, I clasped his hand in mine, looked sternly at Alicia and said, "Look likes a businessman" and that's what we did. If the subject was a lady, we stood next to each other and as Alicia counted down to the shot, I snuck in and kissed every woman there. My master plan was for there to be almost a hundred individual shots, all following the same pattern - cold, emotionless blah for the men, forced, uncomfortable sexiness with the ladies. Everybody got something out of it.

(I am happy to report that pics of Carmine schmoozing the audience has begun popping up in the random picture generator on the Schadenfreude website. You can see them on the left side of the front page over here. Click on the pic, to see the next one. Nothing but handshakes and kisses. The whole way through.)

(EDITED TO ADD: Check it out! There's a very nice page here with all the pics of Carmine molesting the audience. My favorites are the ones where the girls look so creeped out. There's also one or two where the guy looks at the camera, uncertain where he is or what is going on. That's pretty great too.)

The whole show was a great time. I had some friends in the audience, Karl & Maralee, Janet, Christina and Steve Scholz were all there. I was pleasant surprised to see Don Hall and Joe Janes were performing on the bill. Jen Ellison was there too. At the end of their gig, Joe and Don ripped off body hair strips that they'd hidden on their person. That was pretty funny.


Before the rip.

If the operative maxim of modern comedy is that "it should be a little bit dangerous", Don and Joe stepped up and proved that it could apply to oneself, as well as to the audience. (Also, consider this, there's a hairless patch of skin near Don Hall's nether regions, right now. Now THAT is comedy.)


And After the Rip.

At the end of the night, Adam, surprised Jamie and I by having our characters come up onstage and say a little something. Jamie and I worked out a bit whereupon he would try to bring some class to the stage and I would tell the pantyhose joke. I did. And it bombed. But that didn't curb my enjoyment of it, one bit. My character laughed and laughed at his own bits, before stealing the mic and "thanking these comedy kids fer comin' out here tonight and makin' us all laugh with their comedy's and all fer a good cause, too." and then I threatened to make out with the one girl in the audience who noticed my stuffed pants before I pointed it out to her. I called her out by name and exited the stage to the sound of her squealing in the back of the room.







All in all, the evening was a blast, from start to finish. After the gig was over, every member of Schadenfreude came up and thanked me for my work at their gig. They were so gracious and cool. They really made me feel like a real rockstar. I learned a lesson there from them. I want my guests at "Sickest Stories" to feel the same way. After my shows, I'll show them the same gratitude that Schadenfreude showed me. I want people who leave my show, to be riding high, the same way that I was, when I left their show. I made sure to thank them individually for having me out and offered to help them again, if they ever needed a help with a gig. Who knows, they might call me and ask me to help them with another one of their gigs, later. And wouldn't it be a blast to work with those guys again?

If nothing else, I got a new picture for my flickr badge, there on my blog. Another picture of another character that I got to play at somebody's show. I like how different Carmine looks from "Johnny Tahoe" or "Clutch Jettison". Truth be told, I am secretly collecting different looks for my characters. It's always fun to design something new and different for someone's show. And it doesn't get much more different than Carmine DiPozzi, restaurateur and letch.

Gather the lilies...

There's a girl, here at work, that I fancy, a bit. I've liked her for a while now but I've never gone out with her socially or even asked her out.

She just told me that tomorrow is her last day here.

I expressed to her that I was sorry to see her go. But I still didn't ask her out. I was thinking to myself, I wish I'd asked you out a month ago. With enough time between then and now, maybe her leaving wouldn't bring such certainty that I won't ever see her again.

But I didn't. And now I know that when she's gone, she's really gone.

So, I just let her go, without saying or doing anything about it.

If I could offer one bit of advice to you, Gentle Readers, it would be this... "Gather the lilies while you still may. Embrace opportunity. Say "yes" to whatever is offered to you and ask for the things that you want. Try everything. That's the key to a life lived well."

Do not let the pretty girls in your life go without asking them out.

Cheers,
Mr.B

Who watches the ... Minutemen?

Check it out...



This thing gets cooler and cooler with every thing I see.

Cheers,
Mr.B

Pizza Pie Parties!

You may remember when I posted about this blog ticking over and having it's 20,000th visitor in a recent post. In an uncharacteristic fit of gratitude, I offered to have a Celebrity Pizza Pie Party for the 20,000th viewer to the blog. I posted some details about the viewer and when he (or she) viewed the blog and encouraged the responsible party to step forward and claim their reward.

How could I foresee that there might be two possible candidates? Don Hall was our first claimant. And shortly thereafter, Kyle Bice stepped forward to claim the celebratory pizza pie. (Check out the comments on that blog entry to see the firebrand posts that set this controversy ablaze!) Rather than investigate the claim and begin a carbohydrate-fueled feud between these two noble clans, I thought that peace and cooperation should win out and we should host TWO pizza pie parties. Problem solved!

Plans were made. Schedules consulted. Pizzas were ordered and here are the pics from the events!

CELEBRITY PIZZA PIE PARTY #1
At the home of Don Hall and Jen Ellison.

I arrived at the Ellison home on a Sunday evening, bearing a Pizza Pie.


I rang the doorbell and Don answered the door. Boy was he surprised by what he saw...


ME! I was the Celebrity of the Celebrity Pizza Pie Party. And I brought the pizza!


Boy! That Pizza sure looked delicious, didn't it?


We settled down in the living room and enjoyed the pizza and watched "Walk Hard" together and a good time was had by all.


Later, after we all relaxed a bit, Don showed me where (and how) he likes to view my blog. Awesome!


Two Weeks Later...

CELEBRITY PIZZA PIE PARTY #2
At the home of Kyle and Natanya.

I arrived at the home of Kyle and Natanya's house, Pizza at the ready...


And Kyle opened the door, surprised to see a "Genuine" Celebrity, holding a pizza, FOR HIM!!!


He and Natanya, sure were excited to have a Pizza Party right in their own house! Yum Yum! That looks tasty!


A good time was had by all!


After we ate and enjoyed a nice visit, Kyle showed me where HE likes to go visit my blog.


Congratulations to the Hall-Ellison and Kyle & Natanya homes for visiting my blog frequently and being the 20,000th viewer of my blog (probably)!!!

On the set...

I am typing this blog entry from the set of Pu bl ic En em ies. There's a break in filming and I'm on one of the office computers to check email and post this entry quickly.

Yes, I have access to all of the set.

Yes, I will be back for multiple nights of the shoot.

Yes, I took pictures earlier today, but stopped at sundown. (No flash photgraphy allowed after dark.)

Yes, the director is here.

Yes, the actor that you're wondering about is on set. I'm told that we'll see him do his first shoot outside of my theater in about twenty minutes.

Yes, I'm damned excited.

Yes, the do have bottled water and apples in the craft services table.

No, I can't get you on the set.

Pictures will be posted tomorrow. I have to go. They're about to start filming "someone special's" entrance to the theater.

Cheery Bye,
Mr.B

Water, please. All Over Again.

So, I'm ditching soft drinks again.

This feels familiar. I've done this before. I've effectively quit drinking sodas and fountain drinks, consuming only water, several times before. But each time I successfully quit, someone would say, "Hey, you look like you're losing weight!" and I'd feel great about it and I would literally think, "You can have ONE soda drink. To celebrate! And because you haven't had one in weeks or a month." Next thing I know, I'm stashing sprite cans in my bedroom. (Because my roommate will drink them, if I don't. I'm not THAT far gone, people.)

So, today, I gave up sodas. Again.

I'm partially motivated by Harry Knowles who is cutting down on all of his sweets and had the gastric band surgery, because he's barreling down towards Type 2 diabetes. And that's something I could imagine in my own future. If I don't get my own sugar intake under control. By cutting way down, now, I hope to be able to enjoy moderate, infrequent sweets long into my old age. Thinking ahead, you see.

Today, for breakfast, I had a bagle w/cream cheese and a water. For lunch, I had a small tuna sandwich from Jimmy John's and water. For dinner, two burritos (normally I have three) and water. For desert, I was allowed a small tumbler of grape juice. I know that the grape juice was loaded with sugar. But that's a nice change for me. I normally have some sort of juice or soda with every meal. So, a single glass of juice in the evening is a nice change.

I'm also partially motivated by what I perceive to be some weight gain recently. On top of the extra weight that I'm normally carrying around, I feel like I've been carrying more lately. I look bigger to me. And I hate it. I want a change. And cutting several thousand calories out of my intake each day, just by eliminating sodas is a good start.

And this time, there won't be any celebratory sodas to congratulate me on the change. This time, they're staying gone. For as long as I can fucking manage it.

I was also thinking recently about how in the past 100 years or so, sodas has become the staple drink of every meal, except breakfast. Before then, around the turn of the century, soda was a treat that you and your gal enjoyed on a date. Or as a reward for winning a ballgame. It wasn't a drink to keep on stock in the house. You went out to get it to the soda jerk and you enjoyed it socially.

With an active lifestyle, this very moderate consumption of soda kept the citizens fit and healthy longer. You don't see pictures from the turn of the century of 300 lb people wallowing around on the beach. It just wasn't done.

But over the years, as The Big Business of Coke, urged us to consume, consume, consume, we've been sold us on the idea that we ALL deserve a treat, with every meal. With free refills! And if you upsize it to a mega-large, it's only a quarter more. I mean, it's a quarter more! It's like you've already bought it. Might as well pay the quarter and get a drink so large that you need both hands to carry it, right?!? RIGHT?!?

Well, I fucking hate it when some nameless, faceless corporate hack has set the beat by which I am to march by. It's bad for me. It's killing me slowly. And I DO have alternative. So, why KEEP consuming this sugary carbonated crap, when there's no good reason to do so?!?

So, I kicked the coke monkey off my back (again) tonight with every intention of seeing this one through. Maybe this will help lower my sugar count, hold off diabetes and high blood pressure and give me a body that I am proud to display at inappropriate social occasions.

That's the goal, anyways.

Cheers,
Mr.B

I look like WHICH celebrity?

I was just fiddling around with the Celebrity LookAlike device on Myheritage.com and these are the results that it gave me.



Really?

Fucking Uday Hussein?

THAT'S my CLOSEST Fucking Match?

After him, let's see, a bunch of dead guys that I've never heard of before...

Wasn't Millard Fillmore a president or something?

And closing things off neatly... Calista Flockhart. Girl Lawyer.

This thing is fucking rigged.

On one end of the spectrum I have a murdering thug and on the other end "Girl Lawyer".

How do you use ANY of that as an interesting conversation starter with a chick?

"You know, a lot of people tell me that I look just like Uday Hussein. Hold on, let me drape this napkin over my head. The resemblance really is startling."

Goddammit.

A Wink. A Nod. A Finger Touch To The Side Of One's Nose.

First, A Wink...

It's not so much what's being written in print, so much as it's the blank space between the lines that holds the more interesting stories.

Now, A Nod...

Sometimes, when you can't see a thing, you can only judge it's size by how much room you imagine it must be taking up.

And Now The Finger Touched To The Side Of One's Nose...

The trouble with telling a tale in a cornfield is that you never know how many ears are around you. Best just to keep mum, altogether.

Any more said than that and we both die of tedium.

Cheers,
Mr.B

A few odds and ends...

Found a new audition piece for my May 31st audition for the Neo's. I like it. And it isn't as heavy-handed as my first piece was. And doesn't require ukelele playing. (Three nights of ukelele rehearsals was frustrating me and reminding me of how big my fingers are and how small the frets are on the instrument. Nearly pitched the bitch out a window at one point.) So, a ukelele-free audition piece is probably the best way to go.
My new audition piece involves pajamas, two cell phones, at least three roses and Edith Piaf. How's THAT for a fucking advertisement?

Yesterday was an odd rehearsal for Stinger. Jamie was out with strep throat. Normally, we would've cancelled. But we needed to resolve the sit-in process with Todd. (He was voted onto the team yesterday, Congrats all around.) And we had two more possible sit-ins joining us. Dayna and Melissa from "Feast of Pedro" were both sitting in with us. Dayna is doing a "temp" sit-in process with us, rehearsing and playing with us until she heads out to NYC, later this summer. Melissa is doing a "temp-to-hire" sit-in process with us. We are seriously considering her for membership on our team. Three months from now. After a nice, long, "getting-to-know-you" sit-in process with her.
Interestingly enough, she and Dayna both jumped in with both feet, bringing lively, exciting characters to the show. And Todd, newly emboldened by his status as a team member, also had a shining rehearsal. So, we were rocking and rolling all around. The only difficult parts were, without a coach to call "scene", all three runs at our form, ran long and there was no real feedback after a run. That said, we still had a blast with our newbs and look forward to seeing them back again, two weeks from now.

Visited with Laflamboy and the kids on Sunday evening, in honor of Miss Vicki's birthday. That was nice. Sitting on the back porch, playing "corn-hole" and having a cocktail. Later, i watched Joe playing Wii bowling and it was a very relaxing Sunday evening, altogether.

Saturday night, however, was epic. Absolutely epic. There are some details that should probably be omitted to protect the participants involved. But I will leave off with saying that it's a fine, unpredictable evening that ends with me being invited to motorboat the big, full, black breasts of a sexy, sassy, off-duty bartender who is sitting on the lap of a very sexy lady-friend of mine.

Sexy lady + Sexy Lady(Face Shoved Into Cleavage)= Epic Night Out.

I don't know if it's the fact that I am more open to new experiences or that I'm living with looser morals lately, but I am finding myself in these increasingly sexy encounters that I am saying "yes" to. I WANT to live a life where a sexy, hot-chocolate bartender, who looks amazing, is opening her cleavage for me, demanding that I motorboat her breasts for her. I WANT that to happen. And I WANT to say, "yes" when it does. I am now living the kind of life that I want to live.

Interestingly enough, when I was talking to my old friend Todd, on his recent visit, he shared with me that it was precisely my ability to encounter these sorts of activities and embrace them, that he admired the most about me. He doesn't have these nights out anymore. His own busy life doesn't leave time for that. He admired my freedom. Something that I took for granted.

I have been thinking, lately, that exploring those freedoms might just lead to a more exciting, richer life. So far, it has done just that.

Looking backwards is exhausting.
Looking ahead is exhilarating.
Enjoying The Now is the best possible outcome.

At age 33, I became a hedonist.

My Dreams Were Bloody Exhausting...

I have really intense, vivid dreams. I often don't know that I'm dreaming and get so sucked into the reality of my dreams that I'm very, VERY active while I sleep. Last night was more of the same.

The Running.
The Screaming.
The Fighting.

In dream #1, I was in the zombie apocalypse. I remember snatches of terrible things happening. People being tackled by the zombies and torn apart. I managed to save myself, a dog and a little boy. Eventually, though, the zombies got the little boy. At one point, I'd found a small boat and was making my way through a flooded town. The zombies were so slow and bogged down in the water that they really weren't much of a threat to me. If they got close to my little boat at all, the dog would bark at them and I would beat their brains in with an oar. Doing that over and over, though, got to be pretty exhausting.

When I woke up from that dream it was 4:30 in the morning and I was so relieved that it was just a dream that I smiled as I went back to sleep. I thought, "Thank God, I don't have to go back to the zombie world. Thank God it was just a dream."

In Dream #2, I was having lunch with friends on the top of some skyscraper, when the power suddenly went out and we knew that there was a fire consuming an entire floor, about 6 floors below us. Cue my fucking panic, again.

I tried to make my way down the stairs, but the smoke was thick and impossible to breathe. A pregnant woman passed out in the stairwell and I carried her as long as I could. Eventually, I turned back and made my way to the roof of the building, hoping to flag down an escape helicopter.

I woke up, terrified, around 6:45am and rather than risk another nightmare, I just got up and started the day. Sure, I'm tired today, but that's better than spending your resting hours, defending your asshole in prison or battling demons in Hell or whatever nightmarish scenario my brain dreams up next.

I do think it's interesting that in all of these horrible dreams, I never give up. Despite overwhelming odds and constant attack, I just keep fighting and fighting and fighting for survival. I've had similar dreams since I was boy and I always fought until I woke up or on rare occasions, beat back the bad guys. Maybe some of this tenacity in my sleep translates over to be my stubborness in my waking hours. Could one state of existence inform so thoroughly on another one?

Something to think about.

Cheers,
Mr.B

The Kid Does All Right.

Last night was my pre-audition workshop for the Neo-Futurists. There were about 30 of us there. It was hosted by Greg and Bilal, two of the Neo-Futurists. The whole affair was really, really informative and helpful. I walked away from the event with a better understanding of who the Neo-Futurists are and what they're trying to do onstage and an awareness that my first audition piece, four years ago, was absolutely innapropriate to the audition process. I also knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that my current audition piece will not work either. So, I walked home from the theater, formulating a new audition piece for the next audition. I think I've got one, but it will require me to polish up my ukelele playing skills. Can you guess what I'll be doing at home for the next 15 nights?

I did have one moment of clarity in the audition last night, that, I think, illustrated my potential as a member of their ensemble. The audition workshop was located in the lobby of the Neo-Futurist theater and there was a rehearsal going on, on their mainstage. Periodically, a man, wearing whiteface would run through our space to get from one side of the theater to the other. Occasionally, we would hear the sounds of loud, pumping music coming through the walls of the theater, too. It wasn't disruptive to our class. It was just background noise to what we were working on.

The last exercise of our class had a storyteller telling a short story about themselves. Something with a beginning, a middle and an end. After the finished, another student of the workshop would take the stage and tell a condensed version of the same story. Another student would tell a condensed version of that story. And so on, until we'd stripped away all of the gratuitous "ums" and "yeahs" and got to the core of the story. The deeper, inner truth. From there, we would add information, edit the story and change things to tell it from a different perspective. I never told my own story, but I did take a few runs at the retelling of other's stories.

The last story that was told was, to my ears, profoundly sad. A middle-aged, older woman told about a 3 year relationship that she was in. Towards the end, the guy in the relationship moved to a town, a few states over. Rather than end the relationship, the woman just began sleeping with anyone that she wanted to. The guy never figured it out and she never told him. Eventually the distance killed the relationship. But the two of them stayed friends. And she never told him about the other men.

She said two things that caught my attention. First, she repeatedly said, "I don't feel bad about it" and "people only confess things because they want somebody to make them feel better about it, but since I don't feel bad about it, I never told him." Later, she tipped more of her hand by saying, "The sex with the other men just wasn't that good. I think that was my penance for lying to this other guy, really terrible sex." Which begs the question, "who is judging you?" and "If you don't feel bad, then why even bring up the concept of penance? Isn't penance reserved for bad actions?"

The incongruity of those two sentiments, "I don't feel bad" and "I feel like my penanse was bad sex" were the two ideas that I wanted to explore when I took the stage for my condensed version of the story. Here's a rough analogue to what I said...

"I was in a relationship with a man that I was really good friends with. Three years passed, and I found that I didn't love this man anymore. So, I slept with other men. A lot of other men. I don't feel bad about this-"

At this point, a man's voice came screaming through the wall of the theater, a long, drawn-out wrathful scream, that was so long and so loud that I just held my next line to let him finish his. What he said was...

"I NEVER TOOOOOOOOOOOLD HIM YOOOOOOOOOUR NAME!"

And it was so perfect a cap to what I was about to say, better even than the line of dialogue that I was going to choose, that I made the most powerful statement that I could've made - by saying nothing and then going to sit back down in the house. I got laughs, cheers and wild applause from the other students in the workshop, for embodying the Neo-Futurist ethos, "Everything is real. Use only what is there. The truth is more interesting than some staged fiction."

After the students quieted down, Greg spoke briefly about improv training and how it can prepare you for any possibility. And how he, himself, was never that good at it, how he preferred to have written dialogue. But that Neo-Futurists can not be prepared for what is going to happen and that they have to be prepared for anything. He closed it off by saying, "I can't think of a more perfect illustration of that, than that last piece" and he began the process of ending the workshop with final questions, comments etc.

I felt good about my work in the workshop. I did what I wanted to do there (which is "to not fuck up terribly", in fact, I lucked into excelling). I learned a lot. About what they're looking for in a new ensemble member. I learned that my current audition piece, while being closer to the mark of what they want to see, isn't close enough. And I got a good look at my competition. Who they are. How old they are. How they chose to express themselves. What they had to say. How they dealt with the audition process. All information that I can take in, process and use to my best ability, at my actual audition.

I can't say that mine will be the best audition that they'll see in this round. But I CAN say that it will be the best audition that I can possibly give them. And that's really all that any of us can do, in any audition.

Cheers,
Mr.B

A Quick Check In...

Wow, where did the last eight days go? Sorry about that. Got distracted by stuff and I've been a terrible host.

Um, yes. Let's see what's been happening.

-I have two different posts working, but both of them are pretty picture-heavy and it takes a while to upload pics to the blog. So, that's delaying things a bit. I promise you, though, they're both interesting and one of them features a picture of me a celebrity standing awkwardly next to each other.

- Work is going well. Keeping very busy here. But I'm slowly getting ahead of the game. That's good news. I disappoint my boss less and less these days. I like feeling like I know what I am up to.

-The Library Grift continues. Recently added to the diskography:
"Babalu Music" - Music from the I Love Lucy show.
"The Kinks Kronicles" Disk 2 - Completing that two disk set.
Feist's "The Reminder"
"Timepieces - The Best of Eric Clapton."
Stan Getz "Getz & Gilberto"
Tori Amos "Under The Pink"
Paul Desmond "From The Hot Afternoon" (My favorite jazz artist ever. Now I have 5 disks with him on them. So good.)
The Beatles "Let It Be"
Simon & Garfunkel "Bookends" "Parsley, Sage, Rosemary & Thyme" & "Bridge Over Troubled Water"
Bob Dylan "Bringing It All Home"
Yma Sumac "Mambo!" (A far better album than i thought it would be. So, so good!)
Riders In The Sky "Harmony Ranch"
"The Lord Of The Rings: Fellowship of the Ring" Soundtrack
"Master and Commander: The Far Side Of The World" Soundtrack
Stevie Wonder's "Musiquarium Vol. 1"

Why exactly aren't you getting up on this particular library grift, yourself?

- I've met a few girls and I know that at least two of them dig me. I'm hanging back, though, not exactly looking for something to happen. I like flirting with one of them. Another one doesn't want to date me, so we're exploring that. Two others, though, are pretty amazing and although I haven't expressed any romantic interest in them, I'm getting to know them both as friends first. Maybe something else will develop later. I guess the safest statement, right now, is that I am making new female friends. Which is just about all that I can manage, right now.

-Almost all of my creative energy is being spent on prep for my NeoFuturist audition, at the end of the month. I want to do everything that I possibly can to maximize the potential for getting that gig. I'm sad that it probably would mean stepping away from Stinger. I hate to leave those guys. But I am confident that the team will be strong without me. And if my schedule allows, I'll try to come back and play with them, as often as I can. I think that they know that I'm only considering leaving for a new troupe that will require a lot of extra time. Hopefully that will help me to end things with my team on a high note.

-Looking forward to a possible trip back to Florida in July (should be hotter than fuck, but so be it. It's a free vacation.) I'm also anticipating a trip to New York and Toronto in August. Each one week apart from each other. Love that. Can't wait to see both towns.

-Work proceeds slowly on the recording of my first voiceover demo. We're currently vetting scripts for all of my spots. I should be recording that in late July, early August. After that, I hustle my ass off to get voiceover gigs. I want this to happen pretty badly. Being a voiceover actor is something I've always wanted. I'm getting closer to fulfilling that goal.

-I've been emailing back and forth with a guy that I knew from high school. I haven't spoken with Bryan since 1993. It's cool that we're reconnecting. He remembers stuff that I've forgotten. And we're both going to the high school in July of next year for a theater dept. reunion. Turns out we've both gotten a little fatter and lost a little hair. So that's a comfort. Bryan has twin boys now and he's sent me pictures. Take a look at the cutest kids you've ever seen.

-Checked out the first two episodes of the new season of "This American Life" on Showtime. I thought that the "Bryan Phillips" story from the first episode was one of the most beautiful things that I've ever seen. I was so thrilled by the identity of the narrator that I rewound it just to make sure that I got it right. Phillips' life is amazing. His story is amazing. That he is alive, this late in his life, is nothing less than a miracle. You should probably check that out.

-Bought new shoes. I love them. They're whimsical. I'm tired of trying to communicate my bad-ass-edness through my footwear. I am going to enjoy these shoes for a while. I'll post a pic shortly, so that you can enjoy them too.

So, yes, life is good. Things are busy. I'm constantly running and doing things. I only get a single night off, these past two weeks. I like being busy. But the downside is that I don't get a whole lot of time to muse esoterically on my blog.

That's how things are for me.
How are you doing?

Cheers,
Mr.B

A Review - 9 Years Later...

Whilst vanity searching for myself online (don't judge me you fucks, you do it too), I ran into this review of the last show that I did in Lexington, KY, before moving to Chicago. The show was "Hamlet" and I played Horatio. And I got a very nice mention that I didn't know existed, until I read the review, just now.

Check it out.
(You can view the original here.)

Nothing rotten in this Denmark
Thursday, July 08, 1999

Robert Quan
SCENE EDITOR

Watching this year's Hamlet, it's easy to remember what a pleasure good Shakespeare can be. Even during a dress rehearsal, the production value is nearly seamless. The interpretation and direction are both excellent, and the lighting is superb.

Of all the works in the Shakespearean canon, Hamlet stands among the most widely known and quoted plays. It's not the bloodiest or most romantic, and certainly not the most fanciful, but it represents one of Shakespeare's most thematically strong works.

A theme of murder, revenge, love, the loyalties of friendship, the loyalties of family and questioning the futility of existence, are evident. It's all interwoven into the two- plus hours running time the plot is squeezed into.

For this year's show at the arboretum, the stage has been expanded. Simply put, it looks good, no question. It's roomy enough for the cast to take full advantage of the duel scene at the end and work with the vigorous physicality that's called for in certain scenes.

The actors all fit their roles. They anguish, they fight, and the morbid pace of the scenes completely fits the ambiance of the play.

Director Joe Ferrel stays in touch with the weirdly wonderful nature of this work. With Hamlet, the "no frills" approach comes off the best. Everything, from the skit put on within the play to the final duel is simple and easy to follow.

Kevin Hardesty, as Hamlet, while a touch older than the role, is riveting. There is nothing overwrought about this Hamlet, no unnecessary caterwauling or yelling to convey Hamlet's little torments. It's that deep, brooding voice and command of the physical environment which makes the role come alive. Hamlet is a passive-aggressive, borderline sociopath, and the quieter, intense approach hits the mark.

The interaction and chemistry between Hamlet and Horatio, played by "Mr.B", holds enough gravity to make the play worth seeing.

Alicia Mantia captures Ophelia's irritating meekness wonderfully. Tom Phillips, as Laertes, is suitably dashing and wounded. Polonius, played by Walter Tunis, toes the line of interpretation between the fumbling busybody and the sinister old man, never embracing either interpretation fully, but smoothly rotating between the two. And he still manages to keep it convincing.

Along with Macbeth and a Midsummer Night's Dream, it's one of the "must sees" on a stage with a good cast and director. Reading it just doesn't compare to seeing Hamlet come alive in all that .

I actually really enjoyed working on that show. I was very close friends with Kevin, the actor who played Hamlet in the show. He was the most popular actor in Lexington at the time. (He might still be, but I don't keep up with those circles anymore.) Alicia, who played Ophelia, was a good friend of mine. She and I went to Western KY University together and she actually introduced me to Kevin, in the first place. I have many happy memories of my summers spent at Kevin's house.

Working on this show was a pleasure. Originally, I'd auditioned for Laertes, but the director had the good sense to cast me as Horatio, seeing a kindness and gentility in me that I, myself, did not see. (I soooooo wanted to be the badass and do that fight scene at the end.) I was pleased to discover that Horatio was a very important character to the show. He's present at some of the key scenes of the play. He introduces Hamlet to the ghost of his father. Hamlet is talking to Horatio when he mourns the death of Yorick, the jester. Horatio witnesses the play within the play and is privy to Hamlet's intention. And he gives the final speech of the play, sending Hamlet off with the "flights of angels". An anguishing speech.

The "chemistry" between Kevin and I that the article mentioned was our very real affection for each other. Sometimes, in real life, I felt like Horatio to his Hamlet. Working on the show, I was treated like a professional actor and storyteller. My opinions were welcomed and my input was used in my scenes. And we found a natural, live performance that really serviced Shakespeare's text.

One of my college mentors came and saw the show in the Arboretum, in Lexington. After the show, I found her and her husband out in the house. She was collecting herself, because the finale had gotten to her and she had wept openly at Hamlet's tragic death. She hugged me and said, "Craig and I have seen this show a million times. We've even seen it in London and on Broadway. I didn't think it was possible, but your show was so natural, so raw, so well-performed that you really got to me. I didn't think I would ever cry at the end of Hamlet again, but you really got me." and she hugged me and I hugged her back. It was one of the kindest things that anyone has ever said to me. Nine years later, I can remember where we were standing when she said that and what she said. It meant that much to me.

Curtain.

Cheers,
Mr.B


Kevin Hardesty as "Hamlet" in the summer of 1999.

POSTSCRIPT: I just read online that the Lexington Shakespeare Festival closed in the summer of 2006. And that the year that I was there, in 1999, was the two year zenith of the Festival's attendance, with audiences of 2,000 people each night. (I do remember that our audience was huge. The largest I'd ever played for up until that show.) Audience attendance slacked off in the later years and the festival's organizers eventually decided to cut it loose. They'd been running it since 1982. So, they get definite credit for running a successful organization for 24 years. It's sad, though, to know that it's not happening anymore.

The Sickest Stories Where We All Learned A Lesson Or Two.

An interesting thing happened at this Saturday's "Sickest Stories". This interesting thing happened twice, actually.

Late in the show, 30 minutes in, when Ratcatcher Juan started telling the first of his two stories, people began to leave. Two different groups, actually. The first group of three left when Juan was barely into his story, but after A.) the revelation that a local high school just fought back a major infestation and B.) the school janitors there had accidentally eaten maggot-infested chicken patty's that they weren't supposed to be getting into. Juan had just finished the revelation that the janitor's had done that, when we all looked up to see the herky jerky exit of three drunk people, two guys and a girl, tottering out of the theater. They didn't say anything. They just left.

Everyone looked at me for a reaction and I laughed it off, "No worries. We got their money. And it's not like they didn't sign up for 'Sick Stories'. If this was called 'Pussyfart, Happy Time Stories' they might have reason to be pissed, but it ain't. Finish the story." And so he did.

An eerie thing happened as Juan was telling these stories. The laughter dried up and the audience was genuinely repulsed by what he was saying. Suddenly, the show was taking them somewhere that they didn't anticipate. This wasn't a funny story about "some fat chick that one of us had screwed". This was a detailed description of how exterminators kill rats and bugs when they take over a place. And the audience was transfixed. At each new revelation, they would groan and moan and shrink back a little bit more.

And they all breathed a sigh of relief when it ended. They'd gone through the worst of it and they'd survived and they were all hoping that we would get back to funny "shit pants" stories. But we didn't.

An audience member on the front row, my friend Jenn actually, yelled out, "Tell them about the homeless guy and the cockroach" and Juan looked at me and said, "Should I?" and I said, "Go for it, man," knowing fully well where this was going. Straight to Hell, actually. Juan launched into his story about he old guy homeless guy whose clothes were infested with all manner of bugs and vermin and right when he got to the 4 inch long American cockroach that lived in the guy's asshole, we heard the tell-tale shuffle of six people in the backrow, shuffling to get out, as quickly as they could.

Once again, people looked at me and I took a drink from my glass and laughed it off. We let them go, too. And we asked the audience directly, "Do you want to hear the rest? Or should he stop?" And the loudest voices shouted back, "Finish the story!" and that's what Juan did.

9 walkouts in total. Late in the show. They all made it past the "Funny Ha Ha" parts of the show, but when it got the "Really, Truly Sick" parts of the show, two different groups met their thresholds, pulled their ripcords and ejected from their cockpits. I suspect that the girls in the groups, all of them blonde, young, suburban girls found themselves facing something that they weren't ready for and pressured their guy-friends to get them out of there. That's just my assessment of the groups, after having viewed them at the beginning of the show.

After they left and we all had a laugh at their expense, the show continued and we all got past the weirdness of the story and the exits. J. Ben Parker closed the show with a hilarious story about banging "the comic relief" at an outdoor drama, in a lake, during a skinny dipping party and we further ended the show on a high note by having Juan use his BB Gun to do a shooting exhibition to shoot standups of rats and cockroaches that I made for him as a friendly wager. (Which he won, actually, even though he didn't knock a single one over - because his bb gun was so powerful, that it blew clean holes right through the targets. I conceded the loss, thanked the audience and kicked them all out.)

After the show, Juan apologized to me for offending my audience but I wouldn't hear of it. He did EXACTLY what he was supposed to do. Tell a Sick Story and let the audience sort it all out. For a few months, I've been thinking that the show was a bit too vanilla, a bit too predictable. Juan sufficiently lowered the bar and took the show to a different place, altogether. A place where we don't want the show to live, but that we will want to visit from time to time. A show called "The Sickest F***ing Stories I Ever Heard" should have a "Cockroaches In The Asshole" story, from time to time.

I've long maintained that a visit to the the theater or the comedy show has been too safe for the audience for too long. Comedy-improv audiences are too secure in the knowledge of what they're getting into. Or of how safe they are, out in the seats of the theater. I think that it's good for some live theater shows to push the boundary, a little bit. In truth, the audience was only in danger of what they could imagine, hearing Juan's stories. And if their reaction was so visceral that they grabbed their date by the arm and said, "Get me out of here, I think I am going to be sick", well, that's as honest and as emotional a reaction as a laugh or a cheer or a boo. A reaction that I'll gladly receive. (Without returning their admission fee, of course. They paid to be entertained and sicked out. They got exactly what they paid for.) It's just even more icing on the cake, that they got to see an actual rat exterminator firing his actual bbgun at actual targets to settle an actual bar bet. That's something that they couldn't have predicted that they were going to see at that show.

I am personally proud that the show got to those fleeing few and they ran out into the night, to get away from the theater. Congrats, kids, you got yourselves one genuine, bonafied adventure and it only cost you ten bucks to make it happen. (Although, if you'd stuck around, you would've enjoyed a pretty neat bbgun exhibition.) I can afford to lose nine kids out of a sixty person audience, without sweating it. They made a full house slightly less full than it already was. I'm cool with that.

After the show, at the bar, Harz, who was working the door for the show related to me what the guy leading the first group had said. Harz said his face was red and the guy looked like he wanted to punch someone, as the other guy helped the girl out of the theater. The big guy looked at Harz, and struggling to express the emotion that he was feeling, said, "This show... man... it's too much! It's just too much, man! This fucking show, man!" and he left. I think that's hilarious.

At my show, everyone gets what they paid for.
Even if they didn't know what they bought, when they handed over their admission fee.
Live Comedy Theater is a little bit dangerous again.
I think that's the way that it should be.

Cheers,
Mr.B



PS. I am working to get a full time lights and sound guy to run the show. My new plan is to have an audio track cued and ready. The next time someone walks out of my show, we'll kick on the disco lights and sing "Na Na Na Na! Hey Hey Hey! Goodbye!" while they skulk out of the room. We'll turn each audience submission into a mini celebration! The next time it happens, we'll be prepared for it!

A couple of Onion News Network Videos...

I get these sent to my ipod via Itunes and sometimes, they're exceptionally funny. I thought I might post a few of my favorites here for you to check out.

White House Press Secretary Spins Wife's Tragic Death As a Positive.


Army Holds Annual Bring Your Daughter To War Day


Are We Giving Robots Too Much Power?

One The Road With Josh #10 - T-RO Tour Ends.

Josh was recently on tour with a national musical touring show company. To keep his sanity amidst the natives, he emailed travelogues out from the road. He has graciously agreed to let me post them all here, for your enjoyment.

Names of some identifiable theaters, towns and country music stars have been edited to protect Josh from identifying Google searchs. CAPITALIZED NOUNS indicate my only edits to his posts.

Fans, who wish to track Josh's ongoing travels can read his previous entries here. This is the final emailed entry from Josh's travels.

On The Road With Josh #10:
T-RO Tour Ends


Ohmagooooodness! After living out of a suitcase, forgetting the date/town/next town/time of day, and dealing with all sorts of colorful peoples across the US, FINALLY, the end is nigh. Now I know I can tour for five months and be okay ('cause I was worried…)

Flagstaff, AZ to Grand Junction, CO

Again, because I am just so damned amazed, the amount of uninterrupted space out west is confusing and humbling; confusing because we live in a country where uninterrupted space seems like a waste of time and potential, and humbling because regardless of who you are or who you think you are or what you do, everyone is made equally pathetic next to the mesas, mountains, canyons, and natural colors and shapes out west.

Grand Junction was just a stopover place on our way to Avon, but we were there long enough to eat at the Black Bear Diner, where one could feast his eyes on some of the truly "special" people of Colorado. The place began as a bed and breakfast for weary travelers and workers up in the mountains of Northern California. Eventually it became so popular for it's food and hospitality that a chain developed. It is now run by Bob Manley and Bruce Dean, or as they like to call themselves "Papa Bear" and "Sugar Bear." I wish I were kidding…. Anyway, the lodge-décor diner is really comfy and does indeed have wonderful food, and pie… oh muh guh, the pie. The night we were there must have been "Frosted Tips Night", though, because 75% of the women there, including little girls I think, had frosted tips. Ya know, to create "a look" of attractiveness, some believe frosted tips help frame the face. I believe they help frame your age.

Lesbians seem to love Colorado, at least in Grand Junction. We're not talking nice, creative, smart, attractive, selfless lesbians… no no. We're talking "I'll punch you in the gooch if you don't give me a piece of that pie" lesbians. Ooooo, heavens they was out with an eye full o' business, those lesbians. And I did have to wonder, why on earth would these women position themselves in one of the greatest confluence of wooded forests and mountains, the very natural symbols of male and female? The only answer: no pain, no gain.

Avon, CO/Beaver Creek, CO is gorgeous. Of course it is, it's right in between Vail and God. We performed at the performing arts center in the 2-mile high resort village of Beaver Creek. At night, it looks like the exact replica of one of those light-up Christmas villages that everyone goes nuts over at Hallmark stores. The house of the center was all heavy wood honey-stained paneled, with excellent acoustics, the wing-space was plentiful, and the staff was all sorts of knowledgeable. We had some trouble getting the damn columns in. The two downstage columns which weigh the most and are the tallest had to be lifted down two floors on a pulley, making load-in a little longer than we would have liked, but the space and the time we were there was worth the effort. The stage manager and I have this routine that we have perfected when we need some ego boosting or at least an outlet to vent. It's called load-in mic check. Yes indeed, we take our favorite blocks of text from the play, or personality traits that bug us about the actors, and we basically spend a good 20 minutes putting on a show for the venue crew and our own crew. The actors aren't there, and plus they actually know about it….well, they know about the stuff that we showed them, anyway….the other stuff is still on the down low….making fun is so enjoyable… Oh never fear, we make fun of ourselves all the time because we know we're pathetically ridiculous. The venue set out a phenomenal spread for breakfast and lunch on our performance day, and who knew that split pea and ham soup was good? Furthering my belief that folks in Colorado are "special," this is the conversation I heard outside my hotel room. I can only assume these were snowboarder/ski/slope bunny types, all male, all yelling what they were saying with that kind of laid back, dude-bro kind of accent found on the west coast:

"…I've been wearing the same shoes, well not these shoes, but the same shoes, I mean, like, the same model for like three years now. And I went to get some more, cause I have this pair that I don't touch at the back of my closet, cause ya know, but I went to the clearance table, where I got 'em before, and they were like gone! I mean they were nowhere. 'Cause that's where you can find shit, ya know? And the sales dude showed me a pair of these like grandpa shoes, and I was like those aren't my shoes, ya know? I mean, fuck that, I'm not buying that. I don't wanna look like a grandpa, and shit. But I'm like, aw, man, my shoe is discontinued. But no, yeah, BMX stuff, like the BMX stuff, I'll where the BMX stuff. 'Cause I've been doin' BMX for like years now. Like, last time I skated was like a year ago, so…. Yeah we're probably gonna have some more drinks or something, but I mean, I say a lot of stuff, ya know, so…."

Do straight men really have conversations like this?! Or is this just the magic of Colorado shining brilliantly in the night. Hi-larious.

Colorado to Oklahoma City, OK

We drove 580 miles in a day…we drove through a bit of Nevada, New Mexico, and Texas to get to Oklahoma City….quois? I hardly believe this myself. The route we took was actually shorter than had we continued east on I-70 and then south on 15. The drive was actually kind of enjoyable, if for no other reason than to see the change in road kill from state to state. We went from moose to deer, to fox, to armadillos, to antelope, to more armadillos, and finally to squirrels and chickens. Fascinating, huh? I mean, I'm used to a rabbit or raccoon or skunk, but this was like some demented Discovery Channel special…could you imagine that? Road kill Across America…I think people would watch it…. The only real downsides were stopping at each state's Port of Entry, explaining whom we are, paying money for a permit that would only affect the two hours we were driving in that state, and the fact that our trucks are governed at a speed of 65 on 70mph roads. We had a 10-hour drive in an 11-hour day, so the actors got some nice invasion pay….booo….and hisssss.

Oklahoma was fine. In a fair hotel, had a break from traveling which was nice…um but then the venue…. We were in a high school theatre…. The "venue" had ignored our line set schedule, specs, ignored the light plot we advanced two weeks prior, and ignored cleaning the entire stage dressing rooms. This was a PACA (President's Advisory Counsel to the Arts) venue, meaning some wealthy white person brought us here and paid for everything…and this was the best that could be done?! Thank GOD the cast was there to help with load in along with the six high school brats who didn't really know what they were doing, but at least wanted to help and be there. We spent five hours after the two-hour load in cleaning the stage. FIVE HOURS! There was dust, sawdust, a table saw, old scenery, over-spilled garbage cans, school assembly and homecoming crap clogging the "wings," a messy crossover in the tiny "scene shop," uneven floor panels, faulty electrical equipment….I could go on. Not blaming the kids on this one, no this was the school and the PACA member's problem…and it was not attended to. I was at the high school from 1pm top 10pm….this is ridiculous. After costumes and props were done, I basically stayed another five hours just to make sure the place was performance-ready. We had to hang all two hundred lights, had to readjust cyc and scrim, borders and legs, all the stuff that was supposed to be done ahead of time. If I were a high school "TD," and I knew the NAME OF WELL KNOWN ARTS INSTITUTION THAT JOSH WORKED FOR was bringing a show to my shitty theatre in two weeks time, I would do everything I could to make sure I put my best foot forward, not have the load in turn into a "hey kids, let's clean up the theatre" day. The shows went well on both days, though, and PACA provided sandwiches and good eats. They also gave us goody bags filled with all things locally Oklahoma, including buffalo sticks, chili mix, and white chocolate popcorn (so good.)

The lessons of storage and organization for efficiency, safety, and oh, I don't know, professionalism have become increasingly more important to me, and that it can sometimes become the single most important selling point of a person or place. Sure messes happen, sure things get knocked about, but just because that occasionally happens doesn't mean that it always should.

Onto Glen Ellyn, IL, and our last venue. We have an easy load-in, and an easy load out, we're staying at a Hampton Inn (praise Him), and it makes no difference what the drive is like back to DC, 'cause I'm done. So, what I learned was that the "real theatre" that so many people talk about is actually not any more real than the theatre you're all ready doing wherever you are. There might be some augmentations, but when it comes to reality, you're in it. Equity does not mean good, IATSE does not mean skilled, bigger does not mean better, money does not mean best, and if you think all of that is too negative and not "real" then you are in some serious blinded denial and need to grow up and out of the safety of your own bullshit. Here's wishing you all sorts of challenges and experiences yet to come, and the courage and humor to take them on. Thanks for reading and responding. Ciao for niao.

Joshua

The Man In The Bear Suit

Jamie Buell, the current coach of International Stinger, recently emailed us to give us his thoughts on our new sit-ins. As an additional bonus, he also gave each of us a short paragraph of analysis and a few short notes at the end.

Here's mine:

Chris is to an improv show as your beloved uncle in a bear suit is to your 6th birthday party - slightly strange, potentially creepy, but ultimately re-assuring, silly and fun. More than most improvisers - he applies the lessons of good acting, and practices good fundamentals (like object work, stage picture etc). He holds onto his characters hard and yes-ands his own character tics. He can direct traffic in a messy scene without breaking the reality of the action. He's super patient, but never uncomitted - which is a tough trick. The three things I would ask of him are: try not to laugh at your own jokes, try playing impatiently every once in a while - a little manic energy never killed anyone, and take off the bear suit - it's making everyone uncomfortable.

I thought that was pretty interesting. At a time, when I'm struggling a little bit with who I am on the team and in the improv community, it's nice to get a little feedback. Some of it was very, very good - "the lessons of good actng and practices good fundamentals" and "super patient, but never uncommitted" really made my day. And so that is nice.

I'm not so sure about the underlying implication of creepiness. I don't know if it's because I intentionally try to play creepy characters. As I sometimes do. Or if it's because there's something genuinely creepy going on, that I have no idea about. Am I unintentionally creepy? Hm, something to think about.

Well, It gives you a little bit of perspective. More information to throw on the pile.

Also, he's right, I giggle at my own jokes, at moves that other improvisers make and at well... any damn thing. I gotta work on that one. That and the creepy thing.

Cheers,
Mr.B

The Crane Wife - Pt. 2

Gone.

Today.



Shit.

Mr.B

A Short Play About My This American Life Live Screening Recap

Let's pretend that you and I are having this little chat in some charming Chicago sidewalk cafe...

You: "So, you went to the live screening of "This American Life" last night. How was that?"

Me: "Oh, it was good. I liked it. Ira Glass was very charming. It was neat seeing him mixing the show, as he recorded it, adjusting volume controls and whatnot. He was recording the show live in front of roughly 1,000 people. That must be nice. 1,000 people show up to see you do what you do. I would like to do that someday."

You: "How full was it?"

Me: "Pretty full. Everything but the two front most rows were packed. I thought that it was funny to look around and see how many young hipster girls had their sensible shoulder-length haircuts and their bookworm glasses on. The guys, by and large, were all thin, bespectacled and bearded. Which was sort of interesting. There's a definite look for the 'This American Life' demographic. Just as sure as you're going to see flannel at the tractor pull, you're going to see girls in black skirts and interesting leggings at a 'TAL' event."

You: "Yes, yes, Mr. Observant. Tell me about the screening. What else did they do?"

Me: "Well, they showed clips from the upcoming season of the tv show on Showtime. There was one clip, showing inner-city Philadelphia boys who ride horses in the parks and the city. That segment is particularly lovely. The choice of the shots that they use to show the world around these horse riders is fascinating. One shot, of this MASSIVE tree in a park, as the horses gallop past is so beautiful that you could frame it. Metropolitan Philadelphia was framed perfectly in the middle of the shot, in the far distance. So beautiful."

You: "What was your favorite part?"

Me: "I really liked the new Chris Ware cartoon. As soon as it started, Ira introduced his friends Robert and Tamar and I thought, 'That's got to be Robert Krulwich from Radio Lab and his wife Tamar. Sure enough, it was. I recognized their voices immediately.' I felt like a bit of a public radio insider for knowing that. The cartoon is also very funny and quite charming. A nice use of illustration to show the story that they're telling. I really liked it."

You: "Any other final thoughts about it?"

Me: "Honestly, it was a surreal experience watching something live broadcast on the gigantic canvas of the movie screen. Occasionally there would be a glitch, be it an errant cut to a camera showing nothing or an audio cue that wouldn't play properly and I would become accutely aware that I was watching a live broadcast. The sublime beauty of This American Life, both the radio show and the tv show really came through. The piece with an actual Iraqi touring the US with an 'Ask an Iraqi a Question' booth was heart-breaking. Nothing is more powerful than watching one of the brain-dead heartland Republican hobbyists spout off Fox News Talking Points to a man who grew up in Iraq and knows more than this fat, clueless, old man could ever know. The man in the booth just sat there and listened to this old guy go on and on about the freedoms of iraq and then he definitively poked holes in everything that the old man had said. Even more depressing is the fact that the old man would walk away from that conversation, as misinformed as he was when he sat down at the booth. His opinions inviolate against any amount of evidence. That's depressing, because it's the sedentary, lethargic, ignorant people of this country that elected the last president and will be determining the next president."

You: "I love it when you get all worked up about politics. Take me home and make love to me, right now, Mr. Political!"

Me: "Waiter? Check please!"

THE END.

Dump the Bump: A Short Rant

Can I just say that I really DON'T GIVE A FUCK over who has a bump or not?

I simply cannot comprehend the media's fascination with the rash of pregnant actresses, lately! (And hey, any link between the fact that these preggo thespos are popping up all of the sudden and the possibility that they were the first batch of kids to enjoy Abstinence-only education, roughly twenty years ago? Now THAT is a "baby bump" article that I want to read.)

The thing is, I don't know any actual women who are actually interested in celebrity pregnancies. I see pics of these increasingly obscure actresses ("Guess which background extra on The Hills has got her bump?") plastered across magazines in the grocery store. Tv shows like Entertainment Tonight are screaming themselves shrill about it. And even my boring old AOL newsfeed, which normally documents the endless Democratic Candidate Nomination and updates me on restorative surgery stories for the incredible disfigured people of the world, can't keep it's electronic yap shut about these "bumps".

I REALLY don't give a fuck!

In a world where there is food rationing, astronomical gas prices, an endless war that the president is waiting to pass to the next guy, astronomical food prices, astronomical public transportation prices, astronomical cable & internet prices, astronomical cigarette prices, astronomical unemployment rates, foreclosures and an economy so devastated that we're all getting bribery checks from the government (perhaps to stave off the impending revolution), WHO GIVES A MONKEYS ASSHOLE ABOUT WHAT ACTRESS GOT HERSELF KNOCKED UP?!?

It's not like this is any major accomplishment. To borrow a line from Bill Maher, "Congratulations! You did a thing that a dog can do." As someone who has been artfully dodging any unintentional pregnancies since the summer of 1990, it doesn't take any SKILL to get pregnant. The skill is in NOT getting someone pregnant.

In my family, ever girl cousin I have (except one, God Bless Her Free-Love, Punk Rock Attitude) has gotten pregnant, either in high school or in college. I'm not passing judgement on them. After the initial panic died down, the family has totally accepted these new babies and they're adorable little midgets that totter around the Christmas tree during the holidays, spilling things on themselves and knocking shit over. Even in those cases, where it was a family member that was all "bumped up", I still didn't necessesarily care all that much. At least not with the breathless astonishment that the media gives these celebrity baby bumps.

Can we PUH-LEASE get our priorities straight? I swear it's like 9/11 knocked two-thirds of the country retarded with four separate plane crashes. I feel us slipping closer and closer to the "Idiocracy" every year. And this bewilderment at the natural process of birth, ONLY WHEN IT HAPPENS TO FUCKING ACTRESSES, is like a ignoramus staring at shiny objects. There's nothing going on there, kids. And while you're distracted by swollen bellies and designer baby clothes, your food rations are growing smaller and smaller, the cost of EVERYTHING is going higher and higher and the oil barons in charge of the country are shipping your jobs across the border into cheaper, third world countries.

I know it's scary to actually think about the horrible world we've found ourselves in. But burying your head up the already occupied cooter of the recent starlet of "Recycled Shit That The Movie Studios Thought You Would Pay For" isn't going to actually improv things. And if you're not engaged in improving things, then things will stay as shitty as they are now, or likely will backslide further and get worse...

I don't know why I am writing this. Not a single damn person who reads this blog, gives two shits about this horseshit, either. I guess I am preaching to the non-pregnated choir, here.

Fuck it.
Mr.B


"I'm desperately clinging to cultural relevance for two!"